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Reunited…in Paris!
Sue MacKay


A second chance…



When Dr. Tori Wells arrives to speak at a conference in France, she finally feels as if her dreams are coming true! Until her ex-husband Dr. Ben Wells turns up unexpectedly…

Ben might be a changed man after his pride nearly destroyed his career, but one thing certainly hasn't changed: the way Tori makes him feel.



Reunited in Paris, the city of love, Ben and Tori are forced to share the secrets that tore them apart seven years ago. Dare they take another chance on their future-together?










Praise for Sue MacKay (#ulink_478e1e3b-b11e-5a10-851e-87bc91c9802e)

‘A deeply emotional, heart-rending story that will make you smile and make you cry. I truly recommend it—and don’t miss the second book: the story about Max.’

—HarlequinJunkie on

The Gift of a Child

‘What a great book. I loved it. I did not want it to end. This is one book not to miss.’

—GoodReads on

The Gift of a Child


Ben’s head was inches from hers.

His startling eyes watched her with an intensity that reached deep inside her, and the mouth that could do the most amazing things on her skin looked soft after sleep. His arm was still on her waist, only now she was being pulled closer to his body.

‘I’ve missed you, Tori. I’ve missed us.’

‘We were great together.’ What was she talking about? Their lovemaking? Or everything? Their life, their love—everything.

‘Did we give up too easily?’ he whispered, just before his lips brushed her forehead, then trailed down her cheek to her mouth.

‘Ben …’ she cried softly against his mouth, and her lips opened, pressed against his. Ben. Benji. Her heart.

Their mouths became one, moulded together.

I remember this.

Ben pulled her closer still, so there was only the bedcover between them. All the while they kissed. Her eyes were wide open, watching him, drinking in every line, each eyebrow hair, the eyes that were watching her back. Benji.

This was us.

Kissing Benji had always been her favourite way to start the day. His passion and love had set her up and made her feel good.

As she was beginning to feel now.


With a background of working in medical laboratories, and a love of the romance genre, it is no surprise that SUE MACKAY writes Mills & Boon


Medical Romance™ stories. An avid reader all her life, she wrote her first story at age eight—about a prince, of course. She lives with her own hero in the beautiful Marlborough Sounds, at the top of New Zealand’s South Island, where she indulges her passions for the outdoors, the sea and cycling.




Reunited… in Paris!

Sue MacKay







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Dear Reader (#ulink_ef7f3e26-e420-54c9-94af-b969a5178299),


Since I was tiny I’ve dreamed of going to France, after seeing photos of my dad in Paris. I learned French at school, and never stopped dreaming of making it there. But life kept me busy with other things and it wasn’t until 2013 that I got there. What a wonderful trip! I couldn’t get enough of Paris or Nice—the locations I’ve used in this story. And what really topped off my dream trip was finding my books on the shelves in bookshops in Gare du Nord in Paris and the main railway station in Tours.

Ben and Tori once shared a love that never really finished. Life interrupted and gave them too many problems to cope with, breaking their marriage. Now, in France for a cardiology conference, they’re both getting their second chance. But with Tori working in Auckland and Ben in London it’s not going to be easy for them, so they have to make the most of the few days they have together.

I hope you enjoy their journey as they thrash out the problems that divided them seven years earlier. I’d love to hear what you think. Email me at sue.mackay56@yahoo.com (mailto:sue.mackay56@yahoo.com), or drop by at suemackay.co.nz (http://suemackay.co.nz)

Cheers!

Sue


This book is dedicated to three very special people—

my man, Lindsay, and our closest friends,

Jill and Kevin Turner, who joined us in Paris

to celebrate my big birthday in 2013. Thanks to all of

you for making the occasion something to be treasured.




Table of Contents


Cover (#u21ce7dff-0205-5a24-8a7c-6de693190c4d)

Praise for Sue MacKay (#u1ae49fbc-626b-5f35-8b6a-bf6dd2989fd3)

Excerpt (#u9f966a44-ff09-533d-bad4-91a9fc905eb9)

About the Author (#u79c0eb23-8c44-5571-a965-44580e5b7db4)

Title Page (#ubcd473b8-8fff-588b-a019-cc496cac0a1d)

Dear Reader (#ue07b1b40-65c5-51f9-b3c8-711388463cfe)

Dedication (#uac590c52-2b2d-5661-a3ad-e8b8c28d54ba)

CHAPTER ONE (#uea624803-677b-5e2d-bfac-463278348cd7)

CHAPTER TWO (#u938a0e19-362c-53c6-bc79-a58c38e5e88b)

CHAPTER THREE (#u497c10a8-fbda-59bb-b936-e16822175004)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_4b498bfc-0b9a-52bb-81c9-b14f33c801d5)


TORI WELLS STOOD just inside the entrance to the massive conference room in Hôtel de Nice and swallowed hard, digging deep for composure as she scanned the sea of faces and listened to the many languages swirling back and forth. It wouldn’t do her reputation any good to go around grinning like a clown.

The excitement that had been gripping her since her plane had taken off from Auckland International two days ago threatened to spill over and have her dancing on the spot in her new and very gorgeous avocado-green high heels. French, of course. As for the price tag, she could’ve fed a very small nation but for once didn’t feel guilty at all about indulging her passion. Not even the littlest bit.

Accepting the invitation to speak in front of all these people had been a no-brainer. Even though she doubted that world-famous experts would be interested in what a cardiologist from New Zealand had to say about heart problems in children who’d suffered from rheumatic fever, she hadn’t been able to say no to the director of the Cardiac Forum. She’d have come if Monsieur Leclare had asked her to talk about racing snails in the sand, the opportunity to visit France being too awesome to miss. He could’ve saved many euros if only he’d known she’d have slept in a tent on the beach if necessary, but he’d promised, and delivered, a suite in a beautiful hotel overlooking the stunning Mediterranean Sea. The Mediterranean Sea. Her excitement intensified, gripping her.

And then … She grinned. And then he wanted her to go to Paris after this convention to talk to medical students about her work. Oh—my—goodness. Paris. How cool was that? Her hands squeezed tight and she squashed her lips together to hold back the joy from spilling out loud.

‘Hello, Tori. I’ve been looking out for you.’

The excitement vanished in a flash. Gone. The air chilled. She shivered. Benji? Here? She’d checked. His name hadn’t been on the programme. But that was definitely his voice. Turn around and acknowledge him. Can’t. Her lungs had stopped working. Her composure had gone to hell in a barrow. Do it. Face him.

Slowly gathering a steadying breath, she turned to lock gazes with her ex-husband. ‘Hello, Ben.’

Her tongue felt huge in her dry mouth. He looked … stunning. As usual. But different. Older, of course. World-weary, like he’d taken a hit somewhere over the years. Hardly surprising given the circumstances surrounding them seven years ago when he’d walked out on her. Finally she managed, ‘What are you doing here?’

Lady Luck had thrown a wild card. No, make that a grenade. Fragments of pain, anger, bewilderment, even need, cut into her, making a mockery of what had become her well-put-back-together life.

‘I’m a last-minute fill-in for one of the partners I work for. He’s handling a family crisis back in London.’

The voice she’d have to be dead not to recognise whispered across her skin, reminding her body of things she didn’t want to recall. Hot nights on the beach in Fiji, where they’d gone for their honeymoon. The first time he’d taken her on a date—at the hospital cafeteria because they’d had less than an hour between shifts in the cardiology surgical department. I don’t want to remember those times. She used to call him Benji. Too intimate. Too loaded with memories.

Tori reached for normality, came up with, ‘How are you finding living in London?’

His smile appeared genuine, but appearances could be deceptive, had become so with Ben in those last bewildering months before he’d left. To be fair, which she mostly was, she had no idea what he was like these days. And didn’t want to know. Oh, really?

Ben replied, ‘I’m working towards a partnership in the cardiology clinic I’ve joined, so I don’t have a lot of free time, but when I do I indulge my passion for English history by visiting more castles and historic homes than even I could’ve imagined back in NZ.’ He wasn’t having trouble talking, made it seem perfectly normal to be chatting with her for the first time since he’d said goodbye on the doorstep of their apartment. Tears had been streaming down his cheeks then. Tears he’d tried hard to hide from her.

Concentrate on what Ben had just said, act like this was nothing to be in such a turmoil over. He’d mentioned castles. She used to buy him books filled with photos of the most stunning homes set in the English countryside. ‘The château at Mount Ruapehu doesn’t quite compare, then?’ Thinking of the tourist hotel back home where they’d stayed for their first wedding anniversary made her smile tightly despite the way her heart was pitter-pattering in her chest.

Stop smiling. He’ll think you’re happy to see him.

‘No comparison at all.’ Ben was no longer smiling.

She could see in his eyes the memory of those wonderful couple of days spent in the snow and back in their hotel room afterwards. She also saw regret. For stopping to talk to her? Why had she mentioned the château? It was loaded with their history.

Then Ben straightened even taller and stole her breath with, ‘You’re looking fabulous.’ The words were glib and exactly what she’d expect. He’d always been an expert in saying the right thing. Not always the whole truth and nothing but the truth at the end, but definitely always the right thing.

These days she’d learned to do glib, too, and so could ignore the compliment. ‘Why, Ben, thank you.’ If she said ‘Ben’ often enough then surely her brain would get the idea and forget Benji had ever existed.

‘I mean it,’ he said softly, sincerely.

Talk about knocking her in the back of her knees. Any second now her legs were going to dump her in a heap in the midst of this crowd. At Ben’s feet. ‘Thank you,’ she squeaked.

She was stunned. It had been seven years since she’d seen Benji—Ben, damn it—and the circumstances back then had been too awful to ever want to revisit. Long, lonely years in which she’d struggled to get over him, to put their failed marriage behind her and make life work in a way she could be proud of. She’d thought she’d succeeded, right up until this moment when her heart was beating like a drum. Like they had unfinished business, or something equally ridiculous. Crazy, because she’d loved him with her whole being, and then he’d gone and left her and she’d had to face life without him at her side. Then there’d been the tragedy that had occurred weeks later that she’d had to deal with on her own.

A few minutes in his company and her brain was stalling, unable to bring up anything coherent and sensible to say. She was well-known for her good sense back home at her clinic. But this was a rerun of those months towards the end when she hadn’t known how to talk to Ben without feeling like she’d been underwater, slowly drowning.

A woman jostled her as she squeezed past and Ben stepped closer, using his body to shield her from the stream of people now pouring into the enormous room. He touched his hand to her elbow. Contrition darkened those eyes that she’d always called pools of caramel. ‘Tori, I’ve upset you by appearing out of nowhere. I’m sorry.’

Hello? This definitely wasn’t Benji. An apology? To her? He’d said more words in the last couple of minutes than he had in the final months of their marriage. She studied him quickly, thoroughly. The intervening years had added a depth to his gaze, deeper lines at the corners of his mouth, and a few grey hairs in his dark curls, but it was definitely the Benji she’d once loved with all her heart. A long time ago. Except the man of her past hadn’t done apologies. No, he’d packed his bags, said bye, and gone out the front door, out of her life. So this had to be Ben, not Benji. See, she was getting better at this already. Ben.

Tori gave a nonchalant shrug that hopefully hid the storm of emotions battering at her, and at the same time removed his hand. She didn’t need reminding of the heat that used to consume them at every touch. Lovemaking had never been an issue between them. ‘I’m not upset. Just surprised to see you. That’s all.’ If she said it often enough she might start believing herself. Glancing around, she was amazed at how quickly the chairs were filling. ‘I need to find a seat.’

‘Come on.’ Those fingers were back at her elbow, turning her toward the front. ‘Monsieur Leclare sent me to escort you to where you’re sitting with the other speakers.’

‘But I’m not on until tomorrow.’

Ben led her along the side of the auditorium, again protecting her from the crowd. ‘All the speakers are requested to sit in the front row for the duration of the conference.’

She hadn’t got that memo. So there’d be no getting away from Ben while she absorbed the shock of seeing him. Seeing him and hearing again that deep, gravelly voice she’d fallen in love with the first time he’d spoken to her would take some getting used to. Right now she didn’t have time to think about her reaction to him. You’re not angry with him any more. After all those years she shouldn’t be. That’d suggest she was still keeping him alive in her heart. And she definitely wasn’t doing that. Ben was history, no more, no less.

‘Madame Wells—the Heart Lady.’ Monsieur Leclare stood in front of her, greeting her with the traditional kisses to both cheeks. So typically European that her excitement began returning. ‘I’m thrilled to meet you in person, and thank you for coming so far to talk to us.’

Tori listened carefully to his heavily accented English, and found him a smile. A Frenchman speaking her language was intriguing, and a little bit romantic—even if this cardiologist was in his sixties and looking decidedly the worse for wear. She’d done basic French at school in Auckland but the few times she’d tried to make herself understood since arriving in Nice yesterday hadn’t been very successful, her accent apparently a disaster. ‘Monsieur le docteur, I’m honoured and thrilled to be here.’

‘Please, I’m Luc. Is this is your first visit to France?’

‘Yes. Coming here has been on my bucket list since I was a teenager.’

‘Bucket list?’ he asked. ‘What is this?’

‘It’s a list of things I want to achieve in my lifetime. People make them all the time. Visiting Paris will be ticked off by the time I return home.’

Ben wasn’t to be left out. ‘I imagine Tori’s got going to see the Moulin Rouge somewhere on that list. She loves shows.’

‘Ah … la liste de choses à faire. Now I understand.’ Luc smiled. ‘It is good you are going to Paris. It is the city of romance.’ He gave Ben a knowing nod. ‘My assistant will arrange a table at the show for you.’

Tori quickly shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I’ve got other arrangements in place.’ And I’d only need one ticket.

Luc was smiling happily and ignoring her reply. ‘No, you must go. It will be my pleasure.’

Tori managed a thank-you. Going to the city of love on her own was pathetic enough, but going to Moulin Rouge alone, with a spare ticket? Downright tragic.

Ben replied, ‘Thank you. We look forward to it.’

Disappointment and envy unfurled inside Tori. Of course there’d be a woman in his life. The man didn’t do solo. Was she here at the hotel? Out spending bags of money while Ben was at the conference?

Does it matter? You’re over him.

‘Madame Wells, Monsieur Wells, please be seated. I will talk to you some more tonight at the dinner.’

Ben nodded before turning back to Tori. ‘Why haven’t you changed your surname back to Carter?’

She didn’t want to talk about that. Not here. Not ever. She went for flip. ‘Think of the expense and all the messing around involved in changing practising licences, passport, the property title for the apartment. Far easier to leave things as they are.’

‘I’d have thought it would be the first thing you did on becoming single again.’ He looked bewildered, and a little pleased. ‘You’re still living in our apartment?’

Forget it, Benji. It’s my apartment nowadays. If she was being honest she hadn’t moved out or changed her name because—well, because that meant the final cut from him, and at the time of their divorce she hadn’t been ready for that. ‘If it’s bugging you I’ll get on to sorting it the moment I get home.’ But she wouldn’t move out of the apartment that she’d always adored and where she’d created a little sanctuary for herself by repainting in different colours and changing the furniture to remove memories.

Tori dropped onto the first vacant chair in the front row. Ben was here. In Nice. At the conference. Her stomach knotted.

He stood beside her. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’

‘Do I have a choice?’ she snapped, then instantly regretted her tone. But she wanted to be alone. Okay, it was hard to be alone in the midst of hundreds of people, but if only Ben would go and sit somewhere else to give her time to get over their first meeting.

He looked along the row, shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid not.’ Then he smiled. ‘I promise I won’t cause you any trouble.’

Translated, that meant he’d be charming and cordial so as to win her over, because he’d be hating it that she hadn’t fallen all over him. Charm was his modus operandi. It won him anything, anyone he aspired to. Well, it wouldn’t work with her. Not any more. ‘Fine.’ She crossed her legs and turned to face the stage directly in front.

Except he’d already caused her trouble just by being here. Her tumbling emotions had her in a pickle. Benji had been her first love, her only love. Did that mean this was a normal reaction, and that once she’d got over the shock of seeing him she’d be able to hold a conversation with him without wanting to touch his arms, his chest, face? The air huffed over her bottom lip. Touch Ben? That would go down like a ton of bricks. He’d back off fast—which might be the answer to the situation.

No, she’d try ignoring him, focus entirely on the speakers. Unfortunately it was too soon to put on the headphones supplied so attendees could hear translations in their own language when the talks started. Those would blank out Benji, but she’d have to wait. Sitting up straight, Tori breathed deeply. And smelt a scrummy combination of citrus and pine. ‘You still use the same aftershave.’

He leaned close. ‘It’s my favourite.’

Oh, blast. Had she really said that out loud? Now he’d definitely have the wrong idea. She tried shallow breathing to avoid smelling that scent. It didn’t work. Instead the air suddenly seemed full of the evocative, promise-laden smell, almost as though she was in a lemon grove surrounded by pine trees—with Benji. It overwhelmed her and brought back another memory. The aftershave had been an impulse buy after their first date. She’d wrapped it in white paper with red hearts printed on it. On their second date, when he’d taken her to bed for the first time, he’d stripped down to his undies—white ones with red hearts splashed across them.

I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll stand at the back of the room. She began to push up on her feet. Loud applause broke out and Tori sank back down. Too late. She wasn’t moving anywhere. The conference had begun. Putting her hands together, she joined in.

Monsieur Leclare stood in front of the microphone. ‘Mesdames et messieurs, welcome to the tenth European Cardiac Forum. We are lucky to have some wonderful speakers whom I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to listen to over the next three days.’

Settling farther back on her chair, Tori pinched herself. I’m in France. At a conference of peers from all over Europe and America. Another pinch. Sitting beside my ex-husband. Her teeth clamped together. She suddenly felt ill.

Then Benji moved, and his elbow touched her arm. She hated the warmth filtering through her, ramping up the tension that had been gripping her since she’d first heard him say hello.

‘Stand up,’ he whispered warmly. ‘They’re applauding you.’

Leaping up, Tori turned to face the auditorium, blinked like a rabbit in headlights and dredged up a smile. What are they all doing, clapping me? She nodded left and right. Now I’m behaving like royalty. Should’ve stayed back in Kiwi land where I’m just an ordinary girl.

‘Now I’d like to introduce the members of the panel for Friday. Benjamin Wells, cardiac surgeon from London.’ Luc Leclare introduced the other three specialists Ben would be talking with about a new technique they’d developed for post heart-transplant recovery.

As the men stood the applause increased tenfold. Tori sank back onto her chair, automatically clapping along with everyone else, feeling something very like pride for Ben leaking into her psyche. He was clever, had always been totally focused on cardiology and his patients.

While he was distracted by the applause she took the opportunity to study him once more. Can’t you get enough of him? Her lungs faltered. He’d been handsome, but add seven years and the drama of dealing with the unnecessary and controversial death of his patient, their break-up and those youthful good looks had toughened, tightened, making him even more good-looking. He suited who he’d become.

Ben finally sat down, and leaned close. ‘You’re staring.’

‘Just making sure I know who I’m sharing the front row with.’

‘And do you? Know me?’ A sad glint appeared in his eyes and his mouth flattened.

‘Do you still talk in funny voices and sing off-key while shaving?’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t have the time any more.’

He used to make time. ‘Sleep on your stomach?’

‘No.’

Another change. ‘Want six kids?’

‘I’d settle for one.’

He’d nearly got one. Her stomach hit the floor. The baby. Their baby, the one she’d lost and that he knew nothing about.

‘How am I doing?’ Ben asked.

Somehow she managed to croak out, ‘No, I don’t know you.’ She tried to find him a smile but was all out of them. Instead she muttered, ‘If you don’t mind, I would like to listen to the director.’

She had to look away from those eyes that saw too much, knew too much and had always got him what he wanted. Shame he hadn’t felt the same about her. They might’ve resolved some of their problems before they’d got out of hand. Not getting caught up in the web of fun and charm that was Benjamin Wells over the next few days would be the toughest challenge since their break-up. He came with too many memories, good and bad, for them to be able to step around the minefield and get along as though the past hadn’t happened.

Ben didn’t blame Tori for the cold shoulder she was working so hard to give him. If, back in London, he’d had more than twelve hours’ notice and hadn’t been frantically handing over patients to his colleagues he’d have tried to let her know that he’d be here, just to save any embarrassment. Except neither of them had been embarrassed—more shaken than anything.

How could he have forgotten how beautiful Tori was? He’d fallen in love with those classic features, perfect skin and twinkling emerald eyes. Fallen in a flash. One look across a frantically busy department had been all it had taken. Then he’d spoken to her and she’d laughed and that had been the ribbon on the box that was his heart. If he closed his eyes he could bring up the images of that morning right now. It had been her first day at Auckland’s specialist cardiac hospital, and she’d been sent to the department where he’d worked as a surgeon, trying to get up the hours and experience to go into private practice.

I’ve missed you, Tori.

His heart stalled. Got away, he had not. He’d refused to.

Yes, I have missed you. I’m only just beginning to admit it, but I have. I haven’t looked seriously at another woman since you. Haven’t wanted to.

As he watched Tori chatting to two conference attendees he felt a deep hunger opening up inside.

For Tori.

But they were finished. As in never-to-repeat-that-experience-again finished. Tori wouldn’t let him within a bull’s roar of her except in a crowded space like this. He’d hurt her beyond belief—for all the right reasons, or so he’d believed at the time. But later, when the flak died away and he’d had more than enough hours to reflect, he’d accepted he’d been lashing out at her for not believing in him, for not trusting him to be the consummate professional when operating on a patient—because she’d been right. His shame had been consuming him even before she’d questioned his integrity. Afterwards it had known no boundaries. If his wife couldn’t believe in him, who could? Not even his father had questioned his guilt, instead focusing on trying to hide it by laying the blame elsewhere, which had made the situation far worse.

Seeing Tori after all this time, touching her elbow, breathing the same air, had stirred up this intense hunger within him. Seriously? It couldn’t be hunger for Tori. They had far too many unresolved issues that they hadn’t been able to fix back when they’d been married. Even if he explained why he’d called it quits on their marriage there wasn’t a chance in Hades of Tori ever trusting him completely and thereby loving him again.

Even at the worst moments of their failing marriage he’d wished her the absolute best in her career, her private life, in everything she desired. Always. Then after their divorce he’d wanted it even more. He’d owed her for pushing her away at a time he’d desperately needed her. She’d known his need and he could still see the hurt in her eyes every time he’d denied her. He owed her for so many things, and at the same time he’d been slayed by her accusation. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to admit the truth to her.

‘Ben, there you are. I’ve been searching this crowd from the moment we were released for coffee. How the blazes are you? It’s been a while.’

Ben turned to find John standing beside him and clasped his hand. ‘Released? You make it sound like a sentence being here. How’re things with you? It’s been a long time.’ Hell, John had gained a lot of weight since they’d last caught up.

‘Too long, but I guess it’s too far for you to hop a ride down to Sydney to play catch-up.’ John sounded like he wished for exactly that.

‘It’s not next door, that’s for sure.’ But it was his turn to visit and he should’ve made the effort. John had been a good friend to him while he’d lived in Sydney, trying to get back on his feet. ‘I’ll head your way next time I pull holidays. How’s that?’ Talk about an instant decision. There’d be no backing out once John’s wife, Rita, heard.

‘Deal.’ John’s gaze drifted sideways to where Tori stood. ‘So that’s your ex-wife.’

‘Tori.’ John would’ve heard her name when she’d been introduced at the conference. Because they shared the same surname, would everyone here think he and Tori were married? He didn’t know what to make of that. Her explanation for not changing back to her maiden name didn’t ring true of her. Not the Tori he’d known, who’d always done what had needed doing without delay. Whenever he’d read ‘Tori Wells’ in an article or, recently, on the forum programme, he’d know a moment of pleasure—before reality had set in. They were divorced. Sharing a name meant nothing, held no connection.

John was still yabbering in his ear. ‘Got a surprise when “Madame Wells” stood up. I knew she was coming, but you never said she was a looker.’

A change of subject was needed urgently. ‘Is Rita here, too?’

‘You don’t think I’d be allowed to come to France without her, do you?’ John grinned. ‘I hate to think what’s happening to the credit card right now.’

‘Go, Rita. I hope she blows the budget big time.’ Ben knew the diminutive woman who was the light of his friend’s life would be very circumspect. She came from a poor background and having money on tap hadn’t made her a spendthrift, though being in France might tempt her to have some fun. He’d always liked Rita, and had felt envious of the relationship she and John shared. The kind of relationship he and Tori had had in the beginning—before his monumental error of judgement. Stop thinking about Tori. It wouldn’t get him anywhere. Focus on John. ‘How’s life at Sydney Hospital?’

‘Muddling along. Never enough time to see all the patients I’d like to, but otherwise no complaints. What about you? You’re still happy on Harley Street?’

‘Absolutely. It takes up most of my time.’ And filled in the end of the day when everyone else was at home with family while he only had a solitary meal prepared by his housekeeper to look forward to. ‘It’s turned into a twenty-four-seven career.’

Except for the next few days. Hopefully he’d get to relax a bit. He was exhausted and needed a break before he made a mistake. Another mistake. A shudder rolled through him. He had learned the hard way to routinely take leave to recharge his batteries. An overtired surgeon made mistakes. Shifting his balance from one foot to the other, he noticed John grinning at him. ‘Did I miss something?’

‘I don’t believe it. You’re working all hours. No play time? What about the ladies? Surely you’re keeping up with them?’

Ben’s eyes were drawn to that perfectly coiffed red hair a few metres away. Now, there was a lady, a real lady. One whose agenda had never been to want to hang off his arm because he’d been endowed with good looks, or to make use of his wealth, or to be ‘seen’ with Mr Benjamin Wells, surgeon. No, she’d loved him for himself, including all his faults. Or so he’d thought until those last months. Seemed he might’ve got that wrong, given she was obviously over him.

He turned back to John. ‘I haven’t joined the monastery, if that’s what you’re inferring.’ But he kept every encounter light and friendly. No one ever had to teach him the same lesson twice.

‘You ever think of heading back down our way permanently? Or are you firmly ensconced in England?’

Ben contemplated the question. He’d enjoyed his time in Sydney where the culture was so similar to home that he’d fitted in easily. London was different. He loved the city with its shows and nightlife, the history and art. His apartment overlooking the Thames was a dream come true. But he never felt he belonged. ‘When the rain doesn’t stop bucketing down for days on end, or there’s a polar blast happening, then, yes, I give the idea a glance. But, no, I’m a Londoner now.’ Or so he tried to convince himself. Especially on the days when homesickness for Auckland turned him sour.

Before he could stop himself, his gaze cruised over Tori again, and his mouth dried as he glimpsed her creamy throat as she tipped her head back to laugh. He couldn’t see it under that ivory blouse and green jacket but there was a small mole centimetres below her right clavicle. Anyone watching her wouldn’t know how wild that abundant red hair was when let loose from the restraints she currently had it held in, how it spilled across the pillow and felt like satin in his hands.

‘Time we returned to our seats,’ John said. ‘Want to meet Rita and me in the bar before the dinner tonight?’

‘Six-thirty suit?’ A couple of drinks and some relaxed conversation with good friends were just the ticket to put Tori out of his head for a while.

Not that he expected to be totally free of her for the duration of the conference, but right now any time without her within sight, disturbing his carefully put-together equilibrium, had to be good. Didn’t it?




CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_5e0051ca-5d73-5ccd-a57a-c34c206fca8a)


IN ANOTHER NEW pair of gorgeous shoes, red this time, Tori followed the waiter to her table for the formal dinner. Across the crowd already seated she saw Benji standing in the distance, a distance that inexorably became smaller and smaller until she was led right up to him. ‘There has to be some mistake.’

But there on the table, in black on a gilt-edged card, was written ‘Madame Wells’ in calligraphy, marking her place. Right next to the card naming the one person out of more than twelve hundred she did not want to sit with.

Apparently totally unperturbed, Ben gave his gut-twisting smile as he pulled out her chair. ‘Would’ve been more interesting if the same mistake had been made over our hotel rooms.’

‘In your dreams, Benji.’ Gulp. ‘Ben.’ Too late.

That smile went virile, wide and open and full of laughter. Then he leaned closer to whisper, ‘I can’t believe you just said Benji.’ Then his smile dipped and that sadness she’d witnessed in the morning was back, his cheeky streak taking a hike.

She turned her back on him. What else could she do? He’d totally unnerved her with that flip comment about their rooms, and yet it shouldn’t have. Being stuck at the same table didn’t mean she had to spend all night concentrating on Ben—even when a part of her wanted to do exactly that. Glancing around the table to see if she knew anyone else, she found a woman of similar age to her watching the whole incident with amusement. Tori felt her blood begin to boil. Why did strangers enjoy other people’s discomfort? The dinner hadn’t begun and already she wanted to leave.

Then the woman stuck her hand across the table. ‘Hi, I’m Rita McIntyre. That’s my husband, John, next to Ben.’

Tori drew on her reserves to push away her negativity and took the hand being offered. It was as warm as the friendly expression on Rita’s face. ‘I’m Tori Wells.’

Rita nodded. ‘I thought so. It’s really good to meet you. We’ve known Ben since he moved to Sydney from New Zealand. He and John worked together at Sydney Hospital and we all became firm friends, though we haven’t seen enough of him since he shifted to London. We’re trying to entice him back Down Under so we’re able to catch up more often. Our kids miss him a lot.’

Too much information. Instantly a picture of Ben kicking a ball around a yard with children filled her head. Ben cuddling an unhappy child. Ben buying the biggest ice creams available for kids. He’d have been a wonderful dad, given the chance. Tori gulped, nodded and looked around for a waiter. A glass of water wouldn’t go amiss. I don’t need to know any of this. It’s his life, nothing to do with me. But I wanted that with him, too. Nearly had it, in fact.

Ben grumped at Rita, ‘I’m not sure Tori wants to talk about me.’

Rita was made of sterner stuff. ‘Of course she does. Bet she’s kept an eye on your career, as you have hers. Isn’t that right, Tori?’

Eek. Ben’s kept up to date with what I’ve been doing? Now what? Tell the truth. It can’t hurt. ‘You’re right. I have.’ By the surprise on Ben’s face she should’ve kept quiet. ‘He’s done extremely well, but that was probably a given from the day he started med school.’ Whoa, Tori, haul on the brakes, will you?

She glanced around. Where was a waiter when she needed one? So Ben had also followed her career, which explained how he’d known she hadn’t changed her name. Seems neither of them had let go of the other entirely. Suddenly she felt warm inside. It was kind of interesting that Ben did want to know what she’d been up to, hadn’t written her off completely.

Glancing up at her ex standing beside her, Tori felt that warmth spread farther out into the corners of her body.

‘Thank you for your compliment. I’ve been lucky to have done well recently,’ he said.

They both knew about the luck, or lack of it. There was no conceit in his voice any more, just a quiet belief in himself. A steadier version of the man she’d married, that belief tempered with reality. But, then, he’d learned the hard way to be humble as far as his career went.

Rita grinned like she’d won a prize at the carnival. ‘Ben, sit down, for goodness’ sake. Snap those fingers and get us some drinks ordered. Tori and I have some serious talking to do.’ She turned her formidable gaze onto Tori. ‘Where did you get that dress? It’s amazing. I want one just like it. Maybe make that almost like it. Can’t be wearing the same, can we?’

Because of Rita’s forthrightness, Tori felt herself relaxing. She had nothing to hide from this woman. Except the same old story she hid from everyone. She shivered. Especially from Ben. ‘I went shopping yesterday straight after I arrived and had a shower to wash off the travel skin.’

‘Travel skin? I like that. I know what you mean. Spending all that time confined in a plane does make you feel less than clean, doesn’t it? You weren’t jet-lagged?’

‘Absolutely, but I’d arrived in France. I wasn’t spending the first hours sleeping. They have the most wonderful shops here. The shoes are amazing. How could I ignore those?’ She felt Ben take his seat, his thigh bumping against hers before he quickly shifted away, putting a small gap between them. Her teeth slammed shut. Even the slightest touch, unintentional as it had been, shot her temperature over the moon.

‘So tell me, where are these shops?’ Rita asked. ‘Or do you have time in your schedule to come with me?’

‘I hope so. I have a few gaps in my schedule. Let me look at the programme after dinner and get back to you on that. There’s a jacket I couldn’t make my mind up about. I’d value your opinion.’ Shopping was always a great way to spend an hour or three, and she’d also like to get to know Rita some more. Hopefully Ben wouldn’t see a problem with that, considering that Rita and her husband were his friends.

Then pine scent caught at her as Ben leaned forward. ‘What do you want to drink?’

Looking around, she saw a waiter hovering. ‘Sparkling water, please.’ Ben looked so cute when his eyebrows rose like that, sort of how she’d imagined he might’ve looked as a boy. Of course, he might be surprised she had given up drinking. He didn’t know that she’d believed her drinking had caused the miscarriage so she hadn’t touched a drop since that awful night. He hadn’t known she was pregnant at all.

Anyway, she’d only started drinking heavily in the first place when their marriage had been going pear-shaped and the alcohol had seemed to help her forget for a while, and had had the added benefit of sending her to sleep every night when thoughts of Ben and their failing love had otherwise kept her tossing and turning until the alarm had gone off in the morning. They’d been leading such separate lives by then that Ben probably hadn’t even noticed how reliant she’d become on alcohol to numb her sadness.

Everyone else ordered wine, and then introductions were made between the other guests seated around the table and as the conversation became general Tori began to enjoy herself.

Until, ‘Forget fabulous. You look beautiful tonight,’ Ben said quietly in an interlude between the main course and a speech from the leading French cardiologist. ‘Rita’s right. That dress is superb on you. Black always did suit your colouring.’

But it wasn’t the colour he was staring at. His gaze was locked on her cleavage.

‘Drop it, Ben,’ she muttered. If she’d known she was going to be seated beside him she’d have worn a sack. Yes, and he used to say you could make sacks look like fashion statements. Her nails dug into her palms. There were far too many memories unlocking in her brain. They’d obviously been hovering, waiting for this day to spring up and remind her of things that weren’t going to do her any good remembering.

When he finally raised his head there was only sorrow in his eyes. He used to be so smug, to the point of arrogant, because he’d always got what he’d wanted. But this Ben appeared different, softer and more careful of others’ feelings. She’d loved him to bits, and had been so proud of him when he’d refused to take the easy option his father had presented to save him from a blot on his CV. Doing that had to have taken guts, and obviously he’d done a lot of soul searching on the way. He’d grown, changed and yet was still her Benji. Benji? Who’s Benji? This man is Ben.

Why did her eyes keep slipping sideways to stare at the only man she’d ever loved? The man she’d once believed she’d be spending the rest of her life with. Benji. Or Ben. Whichever. The package was the same. Sexy albeit with a healthy dose of intellect in those mouth-watering eyes.

I remember every detail of that body. How you liked being caressed just above your hip. How your muscles tightened when I licked a trail down your stomach. Oh, hell. Stop this. I’m at a dinner surrounded by hundreds of other people. With my ex-husband whom I got over years ago. It’s obviously time I found a man and had a good time between the sheets.

Except that didn’t cut it with her. She couldn’t raise any enthusiasm. Swinging back to face across the table, she reached for her empty glass. Where was the waiter? If ever there was a time she wished she drank alcohol, now was it.

Desperate for fresh air and a little solitude, the moment the formal dinner had finally drawn to a close Tori hurried to her room to change into trousers and a blouse, and slipped on flat shoes. Her toes needed a rest from those amazing shoes.

Back in the lobby she saw Ben talking with a group of specialists from New York, but the moment he spied her walking towards the front entrance he excused himself and joined her.

‘Going for a stroll along Quai des États-Unis?’ he asked.

Despite wanting to remain aloof, she chuckled at his butchering of the French words. ‘Yes, the fresh air is appealing, and anyway it’s Nice. Why sit in my room and miss all that?’ She waved a hand in the direction of the road and the Mediterranean beyond. ‘I’ve waited most of my life to come to France, I’m not going to waste precious time hiding away.’

‘What would you have to hide from, Tori?’ Ben took her elbow and ushered her through the door being held open by the concierge.

You. Us. The memories you’ve brought with you. Easing her elbow free the moment she stood on the pavement, Tori drew warm air into her lungs, thinking fast for an answer. She didn’t want to offend him, or be rude. Neither did she want to expose her vulnerability. Not when she had only just realised it was there, undermining her determination to be friendly but uninvolved with him.

‘Please, don’t say it’s me. I don’t want to spoil your time here.’ Again that sincerity threatened to undermine all her intentions to keep him at arm’s length.

Finally she went with, ‘I find conferences tend to take all my attention so that I’m unaware of anything else around me.’ It was true, but not why she wanted to keep to herself here. ‘I could be in a hotel anywhere. But not this time. I’m going to make the most of every free second I have.’

Tori began walking along the promenade and Ben stepped out beside her. When had she said she’d like company? His in particular? But the words weren’t there to tell him to leave her to walk alone.

‘I know what you mean. These things are often held in exotic settings and yet, like you say, the participants don’t get to appreciate their surroundings.’ He was speaking in that low, gravelly voice that heated her right down to her toes every time. Did he know that? Had she ever told him? She must have. ‘But I’m glad you haven’t stayed upstairs. It’s not like you. Going for a walk at nearly midnight is the Tori I remember.’

Not for a long time. ‘I’m exhausted but I don’t plan on sleeping much at all until I get on that plane to go home again.’

‘This is too good to miss, I agree.’ Ben slipped his jacket off and hooked it over his shoulder on his forefinger. His tie had disappeared and the crisp white shirt—they’d always been his favourite attire with jackets—was unbuttoned at the top. His free hand was pushed into the pocket of his black dress trousers.

Benji at his sexiest. And most dangerous. Looking like every woman’s dream come to life, he was impossible to ignore. Impossible. But she had to ignore him. He might have a hot bod, be more tempting than a sugar fix, but she could not put herself out there to be hurt.

Automatically caressing the thin gold band she wore permanently on her wrist with her finger, she let other painful memories slip into her mind, bringing tears with them. A tiny baby, nine weeks in her womb, gone in a rush of blood and anguish, to be missed for ever. The final nail in what had become a dreadful year, and Ben had never learned about their baby, hadn’t known of their child’s existence.

‘Tori? You still with me?’ Ben asked, with a hint of laughter in his voice. ‘Or are you star-gazing, like you always did?’

No, I’m hurting here. Not a day had gone by that she didn’t feel guilty about losing their baby. But he did not need to know that. There was nothing Ben could do to change the past, so why put him through the pain? She’d plaster on a smile and go with happy and, who knew, she might make excited before she got to the end of the promenade. ‘I’m taking it all in, absorbing the atmosphere.’

Many tourists were making the most of the balmy, early summer evening, laughing and talking in different languages, which made her smile with delight. She and Ben nodded to an occasional person they recognised from the conference, but kept away from being drawn into conversation.

Eventually some excitement softened her taut muscles. Nice. Wow. It was so … foreign. Even the air smelt different—full of history and wealth and promise.

‘Is France living up to your expectations so far?’

Again that voice skidded over her skin and set her heart tapping a different beat, adding to the strange mix of emotions she was feeling tonight. Tori struggled to banish that and find that happy mood she’d promised herself, finally found a modicum of control—enough to fool Ben, she hoped. ‘Oh, yes. Absolutely.’

A quick glance sideways at him and she nearly tripped over her own feet. She hurriedly righted herself before Ben could make a move to catch her. She did not want to feel his fingers on her skin. No, she did not. They’d send heat waves throughout her sex-starved body. But he was hard to ignore. His beloved face still had the power to divert her from all her good intentions to remain impervious to him. She’d seen love and pain written all over that face, laughter and tears, understanding and bewilderment. For her it had shown the deep hole their relationship had become—a place where they couldn’t talk to each other. Ironic when she remembered how often Ben used to tease her about how much she yakked his ear off.

This wasn’t getting her any peace from those memories. ‘I like your friends from Sydney.’

‘You and Rita hit it off fairly quickly.’

‘Does that make you uncomfortable?’ she asked.

‘Why should it?’

‘We might talk about you,’ she teased, desperate for light and carefree, not deep and meaningful.

‘You’ll fall asleep in the first five minutes,’ he told her. ‘I heard you and Rita planning a shopping expedition. You’ve already been indulging your shoe fetish, if those red ones you wore tonight are anything to go by.’

So he’d noticed her footwear. Did that mean he remembered kissing her toes after removing her beautiful white lace wedding shoes on their wedding night? I won’t glance his way for fear he does remember every last little detail. ‘It wouldn’t be much of a fetish if I didn’t buy shoes in France.’ Two pairs were only the beginning. She had plenty of time to source more beautiful creations. And buy a second case to take her purchases home.

‘Have you really kept up with my career?’

‘I haven’t been stalking you, but I knew when you qualified from Sydney Hospital.’ She’d first heard it on the grapevine at work. Because Ben had left under a big, black cloud, his name had still been gold for the gossips. ‘I read an article about the clinic you work for in London and you were mentioned. I never knew you wanted to move to the UK.’

‘I wouldn’t have if my original career plans hadn’t been derailed.’ His voice darkened, and he looked out towards the sea as if he couldn’t bear to let her see his face.

Light and carefree just blew away. Guess that was always going to happen when they got together, only she wasn’t ready. Would she ever be? ‘I cared about what you did, where you went.’ She drew a breath. ‘You had great plans for your career and it bothered me that you might lose sight of them after what happened.’

‘Those plans were what kept me going at times, even if they were somewhat altered.’ The sadness was rolling off him in waves. Seemed his emotions were all over the place, too.

Tori wanted to hug him. Not that she would. That’d only lead to misunderstandings. Thank goodness some grains of sense remained in her brain. ‘I’m glad you’ve done so well. Truly glad. You deserved a second chance.’

‘You think?’ Doubt imbued his question.

‘Yes, I do. Always have, what’s more.’ She spun around to stare at him, saw when caution registered in his eyes, replacing that sadness. She’d touched on the taboo subject when she’d sworn she wouldn’t. What made her think they could talk about it now when they hadn’t been able to at the time they’d been living through it? ‘It was the same for me. The work keeping me on the straight and narrow, I mean.’ She grimaced. ‘Sorry, let’s drop this.’ So much for light and happy.

‘It’s as though we haven’t moved on, as if the last seven years add up to nothing, great careers notwithstanding. There’s this enormous block in the way of even having an everyday conversation.’ He’d stopped walking and now stood looking at her. ‘Do you want to finish your walk alone?’ The loneliness in his voice wrapped around her heart.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No. I’d like to catch up a bit. I promise to stick to safe topics.’

Ben remained absolutely still, just watching her. If she hadn’t known better she’d almost think he cared something for her. But she did know better. He’d left her. Told her it was over and packed his bags, his explanation leaving a lot to answer for.

Help. What could she say to him that would make him relax? Nothing came to mind. Her mind was blank. For so long she’d wanted the opportunity to ask Ben the real reason he’d left her; why he hadn’t wanted to tell her his side of what had happened that day in Theatre that had cost his patient’s life and put his future in jeopardy; or had he stopped loving her as easily as he’d made out? Except he’d never said precisely that, she realised with a shock. Only hinted at it. But now it was too late, and any answers wouldn’t change a thing. They’d both moved on, created new lives, and now, at this very moment, she had to make light conversation.

Slowly she turned and continued walking, suddenly afraid he’d leave her to go back to the hotel. She wanted him with her. Why? She had no idea, only knew that she hadn’t had enough time with him yet. She held her breath until he finally joined her. They walked in silence for a few minutes, then Tori said, ‘Tell me what your brother’s been up to lately.’

‘Adam’s married to a woman who keeps him in line, and he loves every minute of it. They have two beautiful little girls who I get to see a couple of times a year when they come to London.’

‘Bet they adore Uncle Ben,’ she managed to gasp out as her stomach cramped. On their first date he’d told her he wanted children one day. If only he knew how close they’d come to being parents. Again her finger rubbed the bracelet. She’d kept a secret from Ben when she shouldn’t have. This was a minefield. Not talking at all was awkward, but discussing everyday stuff exposed other issues that had festered over the years.

‘Of course.’ Ben smiled softly, like he had a store of memories in his mind of his nieces. After a moment, he asked quietly, ‘Are you in a relationship?’

‘No, I’m not. Most men I meet prefer a woman who comes home at the same time every night and cooks dinner and entertains them.’ No man had the ability to turn her bones to syrup with just a look. No man except the one walking beside her.

‘You’re looking in the wrong places.’

I’m not looking. Another change of subject was needed—fast. ‘Tell me about working in Sydney. You worked with some wonderful surgeons. I wondered if you might’ve stayed on there to set up your own clinic.’ That had to be safe, hadn’t it?

‘You really did keep up with my career.’

‘Of course I did.’ She hadn’t been able to help herself. ‘Knowing how fantastic you were at what you did I couldn’t bear the thought you mightn’t achieve your dreams.’ Why had she said that out loud? Ben didn’t need to know she’d still cared enough to follow his career, or that she’d been breaking up inside, thinking he’d lost his chance at success because of what had happened in Auckland. She still wanted to know all the details of that botched operation, but not once had he told her a thing, so the chances of him telling her were now zilch.

‘You and me both. But …’ He hesitated. Wondering how far to take this conversation? It was a little too close and personal, considering where their relationship was. ‘Moving to Sydney turned out to be a good decision.’

It must’ve been difficult, starting afresh with a malpractice issue against his name. ‘I’m glad you see it like that.’

He shrugged. ‘Not a lot of choice. I was given a second chance. Of course I grabbed it.’ He paused before saying, ‘Working in a different environment opened my eyes to the fact that a department could be run very successfully without a domineering man like my father at the helm.’

‘He did have a reputation for great work.’ Tori shuddered. And bull-minded tactics for getting exactly what he wanted.

Ben nodded. ‘Sure, he did. But he could’ve achieved that without being so dictatorial.’

Who was this Ben? The man she’d married hadn’t done talking about important things, had never criticised his father. Ben always told you how much he loved you. Okay, that had been important.

Tori sighed. Why was she even thinking about the past? Their marriage was well and truly over. Right now all she wanted to do was enjoy being in France and having some fun for a change. Fun that didn’t, shouldn’t, include Benji.

Torture. Walking beside Tori, not touching, was pure torture. Listening to her voice, seeing the animation coming and going in her face whenever she turned his way. Definitely torture. Ben fought the need to wrap an arm around Tori’s shoulders, to feel her move under his grasp. That would be for himself, not for her. She wouldn’t appreciate the action. He’d been kidding himself to think he’d be able to see her and walk away unscathed. How could he when he still had deep feelings for her? Feelings he would not be acting on. Loneliness fired up, trampled on his heart.

He’d only ever felt this alone once before—when he’d left Tori. Now he was with her and nothing had changed. He dragged air into his lungs. Warm sea air from the Mediterranean. Tori must be beside herself about being here. ‘So you’re going to Paris after this?’ When she nodded, he asked, ‘Are you one of those Monsieur Leclare has asked to repeat your talk at the medical school?’

‘Yes. Are you?’

He nodded. ‘I’m replacing my colleague, who couldn’t make it.’ Then, ‘I’m looking forward to hearing you speak tomorrow.’

Her shoulders tensed for a moment. ‘I’m as nervous as I’ve ever been.’

‘Get away with you. It’ll be a walk in the park.’ Tori had never had a problem with talking, one on one or in a group.

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ Her smile was tender, and untied one of the knots deep within him—knots that had been there since that fateful day when his world had come crashing down at his feet.

He nodded. ‘Why the nerves? Haven’t you prepared enough?’ Of course she would’ve. This was the woman who studied harder than anyone else and treated everything she did with fierce intensity. Including their marriage. Including their divorce.

‘Why do you think Monsieur Leclare invited me to give a talk on rheumatic fever and the resulting heart disease?’

‘Because you’re becoming quite the expert.’ Word was getting around about the cardiologist in New Zealand who’d set up a clinic to help the children who’d got heart problems after having rheumatic fever. According to the conference notes everyone had received, Tori had become known as the Heart Lady. ‘You’re saving children from ever appearing in our operating theatres.’

‘On the scale of cardiac things, I’m small fry. I’m not making groundbreaking discoveries, or coming up with new procedures.’ She sounded so perplexed he wanted to hug away her doubt.

‘What you do is equally important. You wait. I bet you get a standing ovation.’ He’d start one if no one else did.

‘Don’t overdo it.’ She chuckled, a soft, warm sound that lightened his heart, and undid another knot.

Keep this up and he’d soon be like a floppy piece of string, all tension gone. He held a splayed hand against his chest. ‘She wounds me.’

Another of those chuckles had him thinking if only he could make her repeat them all the way back to the hotel. ‘Time we turned back? We are getting into a less populated area.’

Tori stopped to look around. ‘You’re right.’ Then she yawned. ‘Seems the day has finally caught up with me.’

Ben took a chance and lifted her hand to tuck it on his arm, then headed back the way they’d come, enjoying the way her hip nudged him as she walked and desperately hoping she wouldn’t pull away. Diversionary tactics might work. ‘How’s Molly?’

‘Mum’s awesome. She’s playing golf three days a week, has joined a chess club and is playing bridge. She sold the house to move into a retirement village last year.’

‘No way. Not Mrs Independence.’ He’d got on well with Tori’s mother. She took no nonsense from anyone, not even him. He’d missed her a lot.

‘Says it’s the best decision she’s made in a long time. Personally I don’t get it, but it’s her call. I can hardly start telling her how to live her life when she’s always backed me in everything I’ve done, whether it was the right or wrong thing to do.’

‘She’s very wise, your mum.’ Wonder what Molly had to say about him these days? He’d gone to see her once when everything had been falling apart and received only kindness, though she’d said nothing that would put Tori in a bad light. She was a good mother, made all the more so because she’d brought Tori up alone after her husband had been killed in a trucking accident when Tori had been a nipper.

Tori tightened her fingers on his arm for a moment, and he waited to hear what she’d come out with next. But she must’ve changed her mind because that grip loosened and she remained quiet.

What would she say if he gave in to the need crawling through him and took her in his arms to kiss her? Why ask? He knew the answer. She’d slap him down and avoid him like the plague for the rest of the conference. Tori had never lacked common sense.

‘Have you met anyone else that you’re serious about?’ Tori suddenly turned his question from earlier back on him.

When he glanced at her she was staring straight ahead, tension tightening her throat. ‘No. There’s never a lot of time for relationships. I remember how hard it was for you and I to have together time.’ They’d been like ships in the night at times.

‘That’s a little different. I was studying and we were both putting in horrendous hours in the department.’

‘True.’ Given he’d married the love of his life and that had failed, what hope did any other relationship have? None, when he hadn’t quite laid that first one to rest yet. Hopefully the next few days would see to that.

They reached the sweeping entrance to the hotel and Ben led Tori inside to the elevators. Chancing a light kiss on her cheek, he inhaled her scent of roses. ‘Goodnight, Tori. See you in the morning.’

She entered the elevator and pressed the number for her floor. As the doors slid shut he saw her raise her fingers to the spot he’d just kissed.

Goodnight, Tori, he repeated silently to himself. You were the love of my life. Now you’re Tori, ex love of my life.

He needed to keep reminding himself of that.

‘Want a nightcap?’ John asked from behind him.

‘That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.’ It might be the thing to send him to sleep later, because at the moment it looked like being a very long night. ‘Where’s Rita?’

‘Tucked up in bed, planning her shopping expedition with Tori.’ John rolled his eyes. ‘Women, eh? What is it about shops that gets their knickers in such a twist?’

‘French shops, man, not just any shops.’ He’d love to take Tori shopping, spoil her with jewellery and more stylish dresses like the one she’d worn tonight. It had fitted her tall, lithe figure to perfection, reminding him of every curve he’d loved nothing more than to kiss and caress until she’d cried out and begged him for release. ‘Better make that whiskey a triple.’




CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d6a41b22-b351-598f-8b6a-fad5d74a4f18)


TORI PICKED UP the phone in her room. ‘Hello?’

‘Hey, it’s me.’

Under her satin robe her nipples peaked at the sound of that deep timbre. ‘Good morning, Ben.’ At least she hadn’t said Benji. She held her breath as she waited to see why he’d rung, trying to ignore the pitter-pattering of her heart. This odd rhythm was new to her repertoire of reactions to all things Benji. Ben. The pattering got louder.

‘I’m thinking breakfast at one of those street cafés would be a great start to the day. Want to join me? All part of not spending any more time than necessary in the hotel.’

How could she turn that down? ‘Sounds lovely. Meet you downstairs in twenty.’

‘Twenty it is.’

Breakfast with Ben. In a street café in Nice. That had to be the best way ever to start a day.

Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head. He is still Ben and you are still no longer his other half.

He didn’t have another half. Neither did she. But that didn’t mean they’d be joining up again.

Just keep things on an even keel and don’t let that voice trip you up.

Easy as. Be friendly and cool. Easy as.

A little while later Tori sniffed the air like a spaniel on the scent of a bone. They’d walked up Avenue Jean Médecin until they’d found a patisserie with seating on the pavement. The delicious scent of pastries teased her. ‘Look at those.’ She nodded at the array of exquisitely presented delicacies. ‘This is heaven.’ She grinned.

‘You want to try out your French and order for both of us?’ He grinned straight back.

‘Woo-hoo. Yes, I do. What are you going to have?’ Anticipation rolled through her, egged on by that smile beaming at her. Oh, Ben, I’ve missed you. She wouldn’t be sad today. That’d be a waste of Nice. Stepping up to the counter, she pulled back her shoulders and said slowly and carefully, ‘Un café, un café au lait, et deux pains au chocolat, s’il vous plaît.’ She handed over a twenty-euro note to the taciturn woman behind the counter and watched closely to see what she got.

‘Sucre?’ she was asked.

‘Non.’ Who’d have believed she’d be ordering breakfast in French? She glanced around and met Ben’s laughing eyes.

‘It’s looking good so far. That’s two coffees on the go.’ He sounded as happy as her.

Pulling a face at him, she chuckled. ‘Ye of little faith.’ And mentally crossed her fingers they got one white and one black.

When their order was placed on the counter Tori grinned as she handed Ben his. ‘I did it. I got what we wanted without having to utter a single word in English.’ She hadn’t had so much fun since—since she and Ben had been married and sharing the apartment.

Her excitement faded a little as they sat outside, but she refused to give in to the past and instead watched the trams rolling up and down the centre of the avenue, stopping for workers to alight. Tourists wandered by, some stopping to peer in the window at the food on offer.

‘I could get to like doing this all the time.’ The sky was clear blue again, the temperature already warming up. ‘Thanks for suggesting it.’

‘Like you said, why sit in the hotel dining room when Nice is out here? When France is spread before us to enjoy?’

Tori nodded her agreement. ‘Even if I’d got green juice and a baked banana from my badly accented order I’d have been happy. This is what I came all this way for.’

‘Don’t tell Luc. He’d be disappointed.’ Ben’s smile struck her right in the solar plexus, dissolving the last of the tension his sudden appearance yesterday had created.

Not even the child bouncing on the seat at the next table and poking her tongue out at Tori could dampen her spirits with thoughts of what her child would’ve been like at that age.

‘This is the first holiday I’ve had in ages. Or it will be once my talk is done.’ If she remained practical hopefully this little frisson of interest in Benji would go away. Ben. His name is Ben.

Tori waited for the applause that followed Monsieur Leclare’s introduction to die down. It was show time. She felt good, knew her stuff, had all the notes printed out just in case her phenomenal memory failed her—as if. The PowerPoint display was set up and she’d tested it with a technician fifteen minutes earlier. Yes, she was ready.

When the forum director waved her forward to the lectern she stepped up and looked out across the crowded conference room. And forgot everything. Except that she was there to talk to all those people. Her mouth dried. The notes shook in her fingers. She glanced down at them. Nothing made sense. What was going on? This had never happened before. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Her gaze slid down and along the front row. To Ben. Don’t look at Ben. What can he do? Where else did she look? No way could she cope with seeing all those expectant faces turned to her, those eyes focused entirely on her. Try the screen. Spinning around like a desperate woman—which she was—she studied the heading blinking out at the audience.

Rheumatic Fever and Its Comeback by Tori Wells.

Cardiologist, New Zealand

That should’ve settled her stage fright. It didn’t. Instead, the quivering increased and her stomach got in on the act, preparing to hurl that delicious pastry upward.

A firm voice cut across her panic. ‘Tori, here are the notes you left behind.’ Ben.

Ben was on stage with her, handing her something. Notes. She reached for them as though they were a lifeline. But they couldn’t be hers, she had all the notes she needed on the laptop in front of her. It was knowing what to do with them that was the problem.

‘Read them.’ His expression was filled with confidence.

She glanced down at the top page of what was one of the numerous pads supplied by the hotel for the attendees. Scrawled across the paper in handwriting she remembered well was, ‘Speak from your heart, Tori, as only you can.’

Dared she look at him? Could the whole auditorium hear her rapid heartbeat over the microphone? It was deafening. Was she about to make a colossal fool of herself?

A hand was on her elbow, fingers squeezing gently. ‘Go, girl.’ A whiff of that aftershave and the hand was gone as Ben walked off stage.

Leaving her to do this. He believed in her. Knew she could speak to all these experts and not screw up. Drawing air into her depleted lungs, she faced forward and said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I am sure I’m about to tell you things you have known since the first day you walked into medical school, but I believe in my work so much you’re going to have to listen to me anyway.’

That got her a laugh. The show was under way. A quick glance at Ben found him nodding and smiling—at her. I owe you.




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